AN ABUSE OF POWER

Susie Henderson, 56, was let down by the man meant to protect her

- MOIRA HOLDEN, MARCELLO MEGA

As my dad stood up from the sofa, he let out a long yawn and stretched his arms. ‘I’m going upstairs for a nap,’ he told my mum. It was 1971 and I was five. Sitting on the living room floor, quietly reading, I knew what was coming next. ‘I’ll take Susan with me,’ he said, his eyes fixed on me. As he dragged me by the hand, I was too terrified to protest. My father, Robert Henderson, had a quick temper and I knew better than to argue with him. Instead, I let him climb on top of me in bed, too scared to cry and tell him that he was hurting me.

‘You know I love you, Susan,’ he slurred, the smell of alcohol on his breath. 

Dad worked as a high-profile defence barrister in Edinburgh and had a brilliant reputation in the Scottish legal system.

He was a well-respected man and, to the outside world, he was a loving family man too. We lived in a beautiful house in a prestigious area, but our home was far from a happy one.

SICK PARTIES

Dad had started abusing me when I was just three, and over the years it had only got worse.

When I was four, he’d invited a few of his work friends over for an alcohol-fuelled party. ‘Sit on his knee,' Dad had ordered me, gesturing to one of his friends. I did as I was told and squirmed as Dad’s friend pushed his hand under my skirt. I choked back the tears as they both laughed.